


The Call

by Luftig



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Christmas Eve, Friendship, Gen, Holidays, Light Angst, Mild Language, POV Frank Castle, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21759856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luftig/pseuds/Luftig
Summary: Frank gets an unexpected call on Christmas Eve.
Relationships: Amy Bendix & Frank Castle
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	The Call

_“You can throw your conscience away_

_Just to land a good part in the play_

_Maybe there's a reason_

_That you feel so empty_

_Broken bottles and junk on the floor_

_It's hard to notice when your eye's on the score_

_If you burn a picture_

_To obtain the ashes_

_A bit of wind could blow what's left away.”_

_\- “Burn A Picture” - Red Vox_

* * *

The holidays were an especially shitty time of the year for Frank. 

All of the lights that were strung up along the rooftops of New York buildings, white and multicolored. The oversized tree in the middle of Manhattan that towered over the millions of people came to see it. Music blaring from the sound systems in every single store. Everyone he saw was so happy and all he was left with was an empty pit in his stomach.

Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas all lined up in one long, painful, three-month reminder everywhere he looked. A reminder that his family was gone. That he’d never share another Christmas with his wife and children. 

The pain of his loss never really went away, it left him with a permanent heavy heart, a burning anger deep inside that would never be extinguished. The holidays only added fuel to the flames. And so, he distracted himself from the pain in the only way he knew how.

On the night of Christmas Eve, he donned his vest again, the painted skull, saturated with blood, displayed proudly on his chest, serving as a warning to those who crossed him tonight. 

Crime ran rampant throughout New York. Petty thieves trying to make a quick buck on the tourists and the holiday shoppers. 

Every year, Curtis tried to convince him to give it a rest. Just for one night. To go to the support group's annual Christmas get together, where all of the broken soldiers that were rejected by their families came together for hot coffee and camaraderie.

But, it didn’t feel right to celebrate. Not without Maria and the kids. 

Instead, he was sitting in his car, his breath fogging up the window where he rested his head on his fist. Parked along an alleyway, shrouded by the shadows, watching the building across from him. No more than twenty people, no less than fifteen.

He’d watched them for days. A street gang warring with a rival gang. They appeared on the late-night news. Six innocent bystanders shot, two were killed. One of the killed was an eight-year-old little boy. Their blood spilled on the streets a week before Christmas. Six families would be missing their loved ones, either temporarily or permanently, for what was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year. And that made Frank’s blood boil. After days of waiting and letting the rage simmer, now, was the right opportunity to strike.

Frank gritted his teeth as a dark van backed into an alleyway. They had a few guards scattered around the perimeter. Easy targets. Cheap, mercenary-types that carried big guns meant to make themselves look more intimidating than they really were. The recoil would knock them on their asses before he broke a sweat.

He laid his hand on the rifle that sat on top of his duffle bag in the passenger seat. His index finger twitched as he grabbed it and made to open the car door. The sudden vibration from his phone against the dashboard, however, stopped him. He turned the flip phone over and glanced at the Caller ID, but all the little digital screen said was _unknown caller._

Frank looked around, craning his head to see if someone from the target building could see him. Only Curtis and Madani had his number. Madani hadn't called in months, and the last time she called, he made it clear not to contact him again, so he ruled her out. They were the only people he more or less trusted to know he had a phone. He let the call go to voicemail, only for the phone to immediately start buzzing in his hand once again.

He flipped the phone open. “How the hell did you get this number?” Frank all but snarled.

_“Jeez, Frank, is that how you always answer the phone?”_

Never in a million years did he think he would hear that voice again. Not after the bus station.

“Amy?”

 _“Yep, you guessed it,”_ she said. _“Merry Christmas to you too. Glad to hear you’re still kicking.”_

“Who gave you this number?”

_“Curtis.”_

Frank pulled the phone away from his ear and rubbed his temples, cursing under his breath. Anyone who knew about him were put in danger, the consequence of his line of work. Curtis knew the risks and he chose to accept them. Frank thought by getting Amy to Florida, at least she would’ve been safe. 

_“Before you get all mad at him, I asked him to. And believe me, he tried to resist, but I’m very persistent. I figured he’d be the only one who knew how to get a hold of you.”_

“Why? Are you in some sort of trouble?”

_“Why is that your go-to question?”_

“Because the last time you asked me for help, I ended up fighting the Russian mafia.”

_“Woah, alright, correction: I never asked you for help. We've discussed this. You did all of that on your own.”_

“And we also decided you'd be dead if I hadn't stepped in. You needed my help.”

 _“Whatever,”_ she said. He could hear her rolling her eyes. _“To answer your question, no, I’m not in trouble. Can't a friend just call to wish you a Merry Christmas? That's what normal people do, Frank."_

Frank scoffed."Yeah, well, I'm not exactly a 'normal person' and I'm not in the Christmas spirit."

_"Wow, imagine that. That Punisher isn't in the Christmas spirit. Why not?"_

“I don’t exactly have anyone to celebrate with,” he replied gruffly.

Across the street, the red brake lights of the van came to life, gleaming in the darkness. Two men got out of the vehicle and came around the side, opening the back doors. It was filled to the brim with white packages, stacked all the way to the ceiling of the van. 

_“Frank, don’t act like such a broody loner all the time. Of course, you do,”_ Amy paused, _“how about that blonde lady? The one that was at the hospital with you. Something with a ‘K.’ Kate? Kristen?”_

The men carried the packages into the building through the side door.

“Karen.” 

_“Karen! Right,”_ Amy said, _“you two seemed to hit it off well. Why not hang out with her?”_

“She’s uh... I think she’s a little preoccupied,” he said. Frank thought Karen deserved better than the kind of person he was. But, it didn't matter. The last he heard about her was that she was with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. “Besides, I think I’ve pissed her off one too many times. She wouldn’t want me around on Christmas.”

 _“If you say so, Frank.”_ She let out a long, dramatic sigh. _“Well, if you won’t see her, I’m sure Curtis would be happy to have you.”_

“Did he tell you to say that?”

 _“No…"_ Amy said although it didn’t sound very convincing as she trailed off.

Two doors slamming brought Frank’s attention back to the van. The engine started and it pulled out of the alley. He slid down in his seat when the beam of light from the headlights passed by.

“Look, kid, it's nice to hear from you. It truly is, but I don’t really have time for this right now.”

_“Let me guess, you’re about to get some good ol’ fashioned vigilante justice?”_

“Something like that.”

 _“How nice of you,”_ Amy said before she got quiet for a moment. _"If you're not going to spend today with anyone, will you call me later? You shouldn't be alone on Christmas,"_ Amy said, all traces of teasing gone. 

It wouldn’t hurt. As much of a front he put on, he had to admit he missed having the kid around. 

“Okay,” Frank said. 

_“‘Okay?’ Really?”_

“That’s what I said.”

_“You're serious?"_

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Listen, I’ve gotta get going, yeah? I’ll call you sometime in the morning and you can tell me what sunny Florida is like this time of the year. I bet all you’ve got are lit up palm trees.”

_“Was that a joke? I didn’t think you had it in you.”_

“It’s late, kid. You should get some rest,” Frank said, not waiting for her reply before ending the call. He closed the phone with a ‘ _click_ **_’_ **and stashed it away in the side pocket of his bag. 

The freshly fallen snow crunched under his boots as he crossed the road, rifle strapped along his back. Before he kicked the door in, he whispered, "one batch, two batch, penny and dime."

After it was all said and done, just for one day, he would rest. Christmas wouldn't be so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> This was me trying to get into the Christmas spirit. It's been a while since I've watched the show, so I hope that I kept Frank & Amy in character. 
> 
> Anyway, thoughts, comments, and critiques are all extremely appreciated.
> 
> Thank you for reading and have a great day.


End file.
